Thankful

I have never been able to figure out how one chooses just one thing to be thankful for each day.  In addition, I get that people want to express their thanksgiving the week or month of Thanksgiving on all the social networks for the world to see.  But I find myself wondering about the rest of the year. 

I think it is great to be thankful in November.  Keep being thankful clear ‘til New Years is over (when you haven’t kept up with the resolutions and you find that cake still tastes good in February.  I say be thankful for cake too).  My intent here is not to downplay any of it, but to ask the question that plagues me: What about the rest of the year?  Are you thankful then, too?  Are you conscious of the fact on June fifth what a blessing it is to wake up that day? 

I went through a bit of a spiritual overhaul at some point.  I made a conscious decision to be thankful and find the blessings in everyday life.  Good day or bad, whether I was running late or had a stomach issue, no matter if there was sunshine or rain, I will recognize that I wasn’t promised to live that day and that no matter what, I will be thankful.  I would hope that in talking to me, especially when you’re asking me about my family and friends, you would see my eyes light up when I speak about them.  I would hope that when you ask me about the journey God has set me on, you would notice the sheer awe I have about God’s decision to use me.  I am well aware of the fact that I am no one special and that there are others more qualified to do what I do, and yet here I sit shaking my head, tears flowing, because He chose me.  Me?  I am ill-equipped, I stumble over my words, I am weepy and I fail to be somebody anyone would choose for work of great importance.  I have often wondered what others see when they meet me. What I want others to see when they meet me, is my thankfulness and love for God’s blessings in my life.  What do I want for?  I am blessed beyond measure. To choose just one thing per day to be thankful for would be impossible.  I could no sooner choose a star from the sky or a book from my shelf.  I don’t know if I can even choose something to be unthankful for, although it may be easier. 

But even then, what would I choose?  My gray hair?  I don’t think so; I earned every one of those silver sparklers! I do have hair color, so who am I to complain?  Should I choose my stretch marks, which my loving children recommended I buy cream to get rid of?  I earned each of those too, carrying three of the best blessings God ever granted to me.  How about the extra pounds?  Even those I enjoyed gaining. Sure, I could do without them, and I am getting close to being annoyed enough to start shedding them … but whose fault were they?  The bakers of the world or the Mexican food restaurant I enjoy so much?  Food is not necessarily something to be unthankful for; it’s more something to take control of.  Arguing with the kids?  Nope. I argued with my mother until some of her last days, and I miss it.  Arguing is better than indifference any day.  Disagreements can spark learning and understanding.  Even for those,  I am thankful.

So to answer those who may wonder why, even though I write, yet I don’t participate in a “thankful a day” social media plan: yes, I am thankful.  Abundantly so.  The amount of thankfulness in my heart is overflowing.  When you give each day to God and ask him to bless it, how could your heart not be thankful?  

Almonds, Malfunctions, and Oops I Did it Again

The last week or so has been pretty big.  We took our oldest daughter to visit a college and then we celebrated our next in line with a birthday dinner.  

As we climbed in bed and snuggled in for the night, my husband and I were talking about the day.  My skin has been really dry, so I commented that perhaps I should take some vitamin E, which he found to be amusing, because I rarely remember to take any vitamins.  (Fortunately, I don’t have any health issues that require me to take medicine regularly, as I would forget to take those too.) He asked me if my grandma had recommended that I take a vitamin E.  I said no, but it seemed likely that she would be the person who would say that. 

As a child, when I would spend the night at grandma’s, the next morning I would have a vitamin C, a vitamin E, and an almond waiting with my breakfast.  My husband then asked, “Why an almond?  Like a peanut?” 

To which I replied, “No. Like an ALMOND.” 

He said, “Well, I didn't know if you meant like the nut, or something else.” 

I replied, “I didn't realize that almonds came in any other form!” and began to giggle. 

He then said that he was done with the conversation, and I giggled myself to sleep.   

This week at work I had a wardrobe malfunction. My first thought was, I wonder how Janet Jackson would handle this situation.  I mention her only because of the area in which I was having the malfunction. While I didn't actually reveal any skin, I did happen to notice that I was a little more, let’s say, comfortable than I should have been.  I looked down and noticed that one side was hanging a bit lower than the other side.  (At which point the song “Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro” played in my head.)  The problem was that I had no time to go and try to figure out the problem.  I chose to ignore it and to stay busy, that way no one would be able to notice that anything was out of sorts. 

After going to lunch with a friend, and then to the store (I kept my coat on), I got home where I could properly investigate.  The bra that I had chosen in the dark that morning was already having issues.  One wire in, one wire out, then somewhere in the course of the day, the strap broke too.  Not came undone --  as it was a convertible bra that could be switched around --- no, it just plain broke.  This was the straw that broke the bra’s strap, and it was retired to the trash.  I will be shopping for a new favorite very soon. 

I asked the teacher I work with the next day if she had noticed my wardrobe malfunction.  She hadn't.  Which leaves me with the question:  Which is worse: having a wardrobe malfunction of this magnitude, or having one, but no one can tell?  Think about it.

I injured myself twice in the past two weeks, both times while attempting to prepare dinner.   The first time I couldn't find the can opener that should have been in the counter top kitchen tool spinny thing  (the technical name for it).  I proceeded to go searching through drawers to find it, and  sliced open my thumb on an apple corer (it’s sharp without its cover, which is probably also hiding in the drawer). Then I whacked the top of my hand on the corner of the counter, so I got to go to school with a round bandage on my hand; you know, the kind you would put over a wart  (Hello granny, can I help you?) 

So as you can see, I’m very gifted when it comes to food preparation and all things domestic.  Not.  Shall we discuss how I keep putting clothes in the dryer, in an attempt to remove wrinkles from our clothes, because if I use the iron, I will burn myself?  I am incapable of ironing without causing bodily harm.  This would also be why I have short hair, so I don’t have to go near a curling iron.

Friday at school while walking out to the playground for recess with the children, I tripped and fell.  There is a place in the sidewalk that is uneven, a fact I am aware of and have made a mental note of.  Friday however, as I was walking out with my head turned, telling the children I would help them zip up their coats, I tripped over the raised-up sidewalk.  While they were asking me if I was OK, the only thing I could think was, “Mr. Kimble, are you all right?” (From Kindergarten Cop, “It’s not a tumor!”) 

I did manage to pick myself up and finish out recess duty.  After the children were safely in their classroom again, I informed the teacher that I had fallen and would be going to take care of that.  I went to the office to tell the social worker that I had fallen down, and that I would require a bandage.  She took me to the nurse’s office, and on the way there, poked her head into the principal’s office to inform him of my mishap.  He told her to get some Neosporin. 

When she couldn't find it, he came in and wanted to see the area in question, which was my knee.  (I then started doing a mental calculation as to the last time I shaved my legs.  I am married and it is cold.  I knew it wasn't that morning.)  He then proceeded to bandage my hairy knee, himself.  He didn't notice the hair, though, I’m pretty sure, as he was simultaneously talking to a student, and the social worker, who commented that I was biting my jacket and shaking.  The good news is I can now bend my knee, so Christmas shopping should not be a problem.

So my first accident report was on me, which is par for the course. 

I find all of it quite amusing.  I am accident-prone obviously, but I am also very blessed. Even with all the silliness that is my life, it all makes sense to me because I know I’m in the right spot with all the right people.